THE DUEL
by HooksGuardian
Summary: Based on the SyFy min-series "Neverland" this is one scenario on how our infamous duel, ending with the death of Peter's father, may have begun.  As Peter's father's name is not revealed. I gave him one - Arthur Hopkins. Also w/Jimmy Hook & Peter


Here's one scenario on how our infamous duel, ending with the death of Peter's father, may have begun. First, I need to preface this by bringing up mumps. Whether it is an old wives tale or not, it was believed (and may be true) that if a boy caught the mumps and they went "down" , he would not be able to sire children (i.e. - he'd be shooting blanks). There are , however, ALWAYS exceptions to every rule. My maternal grandfather had the mumps, they went "down", and he fathered 3 daughters (one of them my mother) and all 3 were the spitting image of him. I am living proof of that exception, and therein lies my hypothesis. Second, as Peter's father is never named, I made one up for him - Arthur Hopkins. Arthur because it was the first name that came to mind and Hopkins is on loan from my family tree, several generations back. As I've said, this is just one of dozens of scenarios for how that unfortunate duel came about and played out - This is my version.

Warning! - M for strong language and sexual content.

**THE DUEL**

Imagine, for a moment, that it is 1895. Britain is a world power, heavily invested in India. James "Jimmy" Hook is 29, has recently returned from a tour in India during his stint in his Majesty's service; one tour, though, was enough for Jimmy and he does not re-enlist. He is not particularly popular; not because of any lack of character but because of his quick temper, and his questionable business dealings. He is from a well-respected family and stands to inherit their sizable fortune as their only son.

Of course, he is expected to marry a lady of equal societal standing and of good breeding. But alas, he has fallen deeply in love with an actress; and while she performs only on the best stages, including the Royal Albert Hall, she is, after all, an actress - scandalous. Threats of disinheriting and expulsion from his family do not deter him. "Jenny", he assures them, is a young lady (barely 21) of quality and breeding, great talent and exquisite beauty - the kindest, gentlest soul he has ever met. She followed her passion of the theatre against her parents will, but she is no 'commoner' and he intends to propose to her very soon, after a suitable amount of courtship. He has his own well-established business in the arms trade (which was quite legal) among other business ventures, his own apartment in Bloomsbury, and being the resolute, determined man that he is, Jimmy will marry whomever he chooses.

Enter Arthur Hopkins. He is a brash young man, also from a wealthy, well-respected family. He too has just returned from a tour in India, where he has been leading an engineering detail building the railway near Bombay. Arthur is 24, smug and self assured. He plans to make a career for himself in the military; through family connections he has already achieved the rank of captain, and he looks down on those who are capable "yet too cowardly" to re-enlist. As most young men, he has much zeal and little wisdom. This will be his undoing.

Arthur crosses paths with Jimmy Hook at the Granville Club, an exclusive gentleman's club for only the best of high society. The club itself is housed in a stately old building, a collection of rooms paneled with mahogany. The floors are lined with hand-made oriental rugs; leather-bound chairs dot theses rooms in cozy groupings for reading or quiet conversations, or even a hand or two of cards. The smell of cologne and alcohol mingled with cigar smoke fills the air. Arthur views Jimmy with contempt, for reasons previously stated and brags that he can best the 'old man" at any game. He challenges Jimmy at cards, at chess, at cribbage and loses. He tries billiards, tennis, boxing, and goads Jimmy into a horse race on the family estate in the country; and each challenge he issues is accepted. Unfortunately for Arthur, Jimmy beats him at every challenge and he is now the butt of many a joke at the Granville . "I say Arthur, why don't you challenge Jimmy to a game of tiddlywinks, best two out of three, eh?" This badgering gnaws at Arthur's ego, salt constantly being rubbed in his "wounds".

And then, one evening on his way home, Arthur spies Jimmy and a beautiful young lady through the window of a fine restaurant, having dinner. Jimmy is quite besotted with the woman, and she is equally entranced by her handsome beau. A plan flashes through Arthur's mind - an epiphany. Here is something he can best Jimmy at, for everyone in London knew of Arthur Hopkins' reputation and weakness for the ladies - or rather, them for him. He could seduce a nun if he fancied to. Now, he thinks to himself, now I will teach you a lesson, Hook.

So Arthur searches out and makes sure he meets Jenny after a rehearsal. She is quite taken with him, a debonair, young, dark haired gentleman in his dashing army uniform. She accepts his offer to lunch, just for tea, feeling a bit guilty as she has been dating Jimmy for over a year now, but he has yet to propose, though she is sure he will. Tea turns into just 'one drink', then another, and some champagne to go with their meal and before she quite realizes it she is in Arthur's apartment, both of them in a frenzied shedding of clothes and heated, passionate kissing and fondling. "_This is wrong_" wanders through her inebriated mind, but the kisses, the feel of his bare skin against hers, and then her hand drifts down to feel the magnitude of that which has been poking her thigh. They fall to the bed, Arthur squirming between her knees, feeling with his fingers for that coveted destination.

"But Jimmy…" Jenny begins to protest, finally aware of the mess she is in.

"Fear not," coos Arthur. "For I had mumps at ten and they went down, you've nothing to fear. Jimmy need not know." And with that he buries himself in his prize, and Jenny is completely under his spell, for he is a master at this art. "_And her actually a virgin_," Arthur thinks to himself, half-stunned but smug as ever, "_I can't believe old Jimmy hadn't had her already_." In the morning, Jenny insists that Arthur swear to keep this a secret, lest she hurt Jimmy.

"Oh, I shan't say a word, my dear," Arthur replies coyly. "I won't have to. Your body will betray you on your wedding night."

"How?" cries Jenny, shocked and pale.

"The same way I knew I was the first to tread those hallowed halls between your legs, my pet." Arthur sneers. ""And there's no undoing that. He'll know the moment he enters you, that another man has had you before him."

"But you said…" Jenny protests.

"I said you had no fear of getting pregnant by me," Arthur cuts in. "I said Jimmy need never know. But I never said he _would not _know." He closes the distance between them, still naked, and tugs at the strings of Jenny's corset. "But now I, on the other hand, would have no problem marrying such a lovely young thing."

Her corset falls to the floor followed by her bloomers and Arthur pushes the horrified Jenny back onto his bed, kissing and nibbling at her breasts. "Especially one who performs so well on and off stage. Shall we say in, six week? Very private, on my estate." With that he takes her again, and though she protests at first, she is lost to Arthur's talents and skill and her mind is reeling a thousand miles away while the whole house shakes.

Poor Jenny, like a parched man at a well, "meets" with Arthur more and more over the next few weeks- she has little choice , after all. She is terrified of running into her Jimmy, drowning in guilt and shame for how easily she let herself be led astray. At first she tells herself Jimmy would understand; he would defend her honor and rescue her from Arthur. But well-placed snide remarks by Mr. Hopkins squash her hopes and she accepts her fate. _Besides_, Jenny comforts herself, _Jimmy should have proposed before now if he meant to wed her._

Meanwhile Jimmy is perplexed as to why she hustles away from the theater so quickly, does not answer any of his letters, will not come to her door to even speak to him. He travels to her family home in Devonshire, but not even her parents will see him; the help ask him to leave without causing any trouble. He wonders what offense he has committed, what has he done to hurt his beloved so? He gets his answer one afternoon while trying to relax with a brandy at the Granville Club. Gazing aimlessly at the pages of a newspaper his cigar suddenly falls from his lips as his jaw drops; his heart ceases to beat for several seconds. He rubs his eyes in disbelief.

"That little bastard!" he swears loudly, flinging the paper aside and storming out of the club. For what he saw was the announcement of a small private wedding this Sunday past, between Arthur Hopkins and _his_ Jenny.

Jimmy stops at several bars as he storms through the streets of London, headed for the new couple's home. He bangs on the door so, one might believe he meant to beat it off its hinges. Presently, ever so smugly, Arthur Hopkins appears at the door, in his dressing gown.

"You bastard! You bloody bastard," roars Jimmy, "You stole her from me. You knew she was mine, you knew of my intent to wed her. You son-of-a-bitch…"

"Shush this racket." Arthur admonishes Jimmy, in his most commanding military tone. "You'll wake my wife; she's quite exhausted, you know, celebrating our joining and all."

"I'll see you're expelled from the Granville for this," Jimmy vows, "and you will not get away with this. I shall personally see to that. You'll be a scourge among your own people when I'm done with you."

"Do your worst," Arthur chuckles, "But this is one game I'm better at than you. Checkmate, old boy. Now I really must get back to my bride, her 'appetite' is quite voracious, you know. No hard feelings, isn't that what you always say?"

He slams the door in Jimmy's face, leaving the crushed man to rant and roar in the street until his swearing turns to sobbing and he stumbles home to his own apartment to drown his sorrows in whatever spirits are in the cupboards.

Several months pass, though Jimmy barely notices; he is lost in a deep black fog of heart-break and depression. He is drunk now more often than sober, but he has succeeded in part of his revenge. Arthur Hopkins is no longer welcome at the club, nor at most of the finer restaurants and establishments in London. But such a tiny victory for Hook, for he has lost his everything - even his financial ventures suffer from his loss of interest. And Arthur _still_ parades around town with _his_ woman on display.

"Time heals all wounds" his mother had told him, trying to bolster his spirits, but a wound won't heal when its constantly pulled open again and again.

"There are plenty of fish in the sea," his father had pointed out, "besides, I did warn you about theater people, though that Hopkins is a scoundrel." But Jimmy didn't want another woman, he wanted the woman he loved; he wanted Jenny, even if she'd been sullied by that bastard. So he brooded and swirled his brandy in its snifter; hours upon hours spent at the Granville surrounded by the smell of leather and oiled wood, cigars and wood smoke, staring blankly into crackling fire on the great stone hearth.

"James Hook, you adulterous swine!" a voice bellowed. Jimmy knew that voice - Arthur Hopkins.

"Whatever are you babbling about," Jimmy mumbled. "Stephen, escort this man from the premises. He is no longer a member."

"I don't give a fuck if I'm a member or not!" Arthur roared. "You have been with my wife and I will have satisfaction."

"I only wish I had," Jimmy smirked. "I just may on your next deployment."

""You did and I know you did," Arthur growled, "for she is with child."

""I suppose I should congratulate you, forgive me if I don't." Jimmy groaned.

"Damn you, sir" Arthur stamped his foot. "You know I had mumps, I cannot sire children and you know it."

"I knew nothing of the sort," Jimmy snorted, downing his brandy in one gulp; he poured himself another. There was a sharp, smarting sting across his face, rather like when one's mother has back-handed you for speaking out of turn. He glared up to see Arthur holding his white leather gauntlets.

"Fools rush in," Jimmy seethed, "where angels fear to tread."

"I **will** have satisfaction for the lady's honor, sir." Arthur demanded; he was the picture of self-righteous indignation. Sabers, tomorrow, noon."

"No," Jimmy snapped. "You aren't half the swordsman I am and I shan't go to jail for dueling on your account." The stinging slap hit the other side of his face and Jimmy rose to his feet slowly, menacingly.

"You're being a fool, Hopkins." Jimmy warned. "Every man here knows I survived India because of my skill with a sword."

"You coward!" Arthur berated Jimmy. "I want satisfaction and I will have it."

Jimmy's head pounded; he'd had too much to drink on an empty stomach and he knew it. It made thinking clearly difficult at best, and he made a decision he would regret.

"If you insist," Jimmy sighed, "Be at Warehouse number 47-B at the east side. It belongs to me and is empty, for the most part, so we shouldn't be disturbed. Bring your second. First blood?"

"I want more!" Arthur insisted.

"No," Jimmy countered forcefully. "First blood or nothing."

Noon the next day was gray, clouds hung heavy over London, crying in torrents as if they knew the what was to come. Arthur paced impatiently while his second, his butler Thomas, pleaded for him to calm down and go home.

"He won't show, I'll bet" Arthur sneer. "The bloody coward won't show. Just wait and see. I'll bet he's hiding under his bed covers right know!"

"I think not," a hollow voice answered. Jimmy, never one to be ordered about, had showed up twelve minutes late on purpose and found that Hopkins had worked himself into a lather as expected. "I arrive when I choose to. **No one** orders me about. I'm not in _your_ army." He bolted the warehouse doors, so as not to be disturbed

Jimmy's second, a man named Baxter he'd served in India with, walked towards Hopkins. "Are you quite sure about this, sir?" he queried.

"Absolutely." Hopkins snapped.

Baxter shot Thomas a worried look. "If you insist then. To the second floor now. First blood only, no foul strikes. Everything is to be fair and above-board, understood?"

"Understood," Hopkins seethed, shaking with rage.

The small group of men ascended creaking stairs to the warehouse's second floor, a wide open expanse with only a few crates in one corner. Baxter pulled a glove from his overcoat pocket. "When the glove lands on the floor, begin."

Jimmy assumed his _en garde'_ position, but never once looked at Baxter. His eyes were locked with Hopkins; a man's intentions, Jimmy knew, were in his eyes. Watch those and you knew his next move. It had kept him alive in India. He knew when the glove fell anyway; Arthur came at him, slashing like a man possessed. And each thrust and cut and slash , Jimmy turned away as easily as if he was shooing a fly from his shoulder.

To an onlooker, it must have seemed a very long duel; Jimmy drew it out purposely. He could have cut Arthur on the first pass, but it was more fun to toy with him, play with him like a cat with a mouse. It was equally pleasing to watch the frustration and rage building in Arthur. It was, Jimmy, thought, the most fun he'd had in ages; he'd make a fool of the pup and send him home to lick his wounds. He'd know better than to cross James Hook again; Jimmy would see to that.

He swatted Arthur several times with the flat side of his blade to prove his superiority; on the forearm, his thigh, and across those impertinent buttocks - a good resounding smack. But Jimmy was growing weary of this game, and besides, to draw this affair out too long was risking police intervention. So he parried Arthur's next thrust and gave him a nick, just a tiny cut on the cheek; to the uniformed it could just as easy have been a shaving accident.

"There," Jimmy said. "First blood. We're through here."

Hopkins stood stunned. Impossible, he thought. He was the best swordsman in his unit. Surely Hook had done something of bad form.

Jimmy was turning to leave when he heard the roar. Afterwards, he wasn't sure if he felt the sting before or after Arthur's roar of "No!" Jimmy clutched his right cheek, then looked at his blood covered palm. He'd been slashed from above his right eye to his jaw.

"Bad form," Jimmy sneered at Arthur, but Arthur was past all reasoning. He lunged at Jimmy, whose sword had already been re-sheathed.

"I'll kill you, you bastard!" They would be the last words Arthur Hopkins would utter. Jimmy leapt back to avoid Arthur's blade, and in one smooth motion drew his own sword and thrust it completely through Arthur Hopkins pounding heart - to the very hilt. Arthur's mouth opened to protest, but uttered no sound.

"Now you know what it feels like to be me," Jimmy whispered menacingly into his ear. "To have your heart ripped assunder." He twisted the sword and wrenched it left and right, up and down to maximize the damage , then shoved Arthur off his blade with one foot.

A muffled moan slipped from Hopkins' lips and he crumpled to the floor with a resounding thud; then all was quite. Jimmy looked at Baxter, then to Thomas. He wiped the blood from his blade using a handkerchief from Arthur's breast pocket, paused thoughtfully over the body, then took the gold pocket-watch from Arthur's vest pocket. "No hard feelings old chap, eh?" Jimmy smirked sarcastically.

"Self-defense?" he asked Baxter.

"Aye, self-defense. Thomas?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Baxter, self- defense," Thomas answered. "But what do I tell my mistress?"

"Tell her," Jimmy paused. "Tell her she should have chosen wiser."

Jimmy and Baxter seemed to vanish into thin air, both thinking all would blow over and be well. Regretfully though, things rarely work out as they should and as Hopkins had challenged Jimmy in front of half the members of the Granville Club, there was no doubt in anyone's mind what had happened, though no one could prove anything either. They all knew one of them should have notified the authorities, but none of them wanted to be the one to do it - none of them wanted to labeled a turn-coat, a disloyal snitch.

Jimmy though, once again found himself getting the short end of things. He was expelled from the Granville, and booed or hissed at whenever he went out. His legitimate business partners severed their ties with him, and though his parents sympathized with him privately and believed their son was only defending himself, their public stance was quite the opposite. So he found himself utterly ostracized and alone, found guilty without any hope of appeal or even having the chance to defend his actions.

And as for Jenny, Hopkins' family believed he was sterile, though as I said, there are always exceptions. In truth, the child was his but when born it looked so much like Jenny, and Arthur's parents could see nothing of their son in the baby, even though it was a boy, they branded Jenny a trollop and threw her out onto the streets, where she was left to the workhouses and performing in pubs for the lower-class tenants of WhiteChapel _when_ her reputation did not precede her, and it always caught up to her. Eventually she contracted consumption and died when her small son was barely four years old.

Five years have passed since that fateful duel. Jimmy now ran a fencing academy in White Chapel - a front for his less than honorable endeavors. Word on the street was that if you wanted it, whatever _it_ was, Jimmy Hook could get it for you - for a price. It was not the style of life he was accustomed to, but banished from his previous privilege and position as he was, it provided him with a comfortable existence, but a lonely one.

Five long years Jimmy searched when he heard what fate had befallen _his_ Jenny; his ire against her had faded quickly and he would have taken her as his own and loved as dearly as ever if only he could have found her in time. But at least he had finally found her son - there was no doubt. Jenny had marked him well. And here he was, in this filthy , disease-ridden workhouse.

"That boy there," Jimmy said to the overseer. "The small boy with the dark hair."

"He ain't much, gov'ner", the overseer replied. "He ain't big enough to earn his keep at all. Barely can sweep a floor."

Jimmy picked up the boy and looked into the eyes of Jenny. "How much?"

"Sixpence," answered the overseer. "since he ain't worth much to us."

"Has he a name?" Jimmy asked. He tossed the man a shilling and waved off the change.

"Peter," the little boy said timidly. "My mum called me Peter."

"Well Peter," Jimmy smiled, wrapping the boy in his overcoat. "How would you like to come live with me and have your own bed and a warm fire and food when you're hungry?"

"Yes sir, but what shall I have to do for my keep?"

"Be my boy, child," Jimmy answered softly, carrying the boy out to the waiting coach. "Just be my boy."

THE END


End file.
